


A Regret

by TheRedHero11037



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Other, Sad, as most of my short things are, vaguely post mgs4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:23:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4939606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedHero11037/pseuds/TheRedHero11037
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dying man's regrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Regret

Ocelots are proud creatures, so were this public, i would admit to nothing. I would have no regrets. That’s a load of shit. I’ve done bad things, and I have plenty of minor regrets. Perhaps they couldn’t even be considered regrets. I do regret one thing for sure, though. I regret falling in love. Maybe if I hadn’t, I could be proud of the misfire. Maybe if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have lived 9 years of a lie or, rather, 9 years as Eli.

I regret shooting John in the face. I regret being the reason the legend had no depth perception. I wouldn’t have regretted shooting “Tatiyana” dead, though. It was less that she was betraying us and more that I was jealous of both the way John looked at her tits and the way she could stand up for him even while she played us all like a symphony.

Less seriously, I regret not actually bothering to find out what an ocelot sounds like, because its zombie-ish growl would have been far less embarrassing than the warped meow I let out.  
More seriously, I regret being in the room while John was being tortured. Maybe I never would have found out I had a thing for it. Maybe I never would have dreamed of watching him take it again and again. Maybe I never would have felt bad for taking it out on other men.

I regret never being brave enough to admit I was different. To admit that EVA was absolutely nothing but a loud waste of space. To admit that every time Volgin held Raikov close, I felt worse. I knew Volgin was a freak and a monster and a huge whore and Raikov was a creep and a brute. and I knew that I wanted what they got in the night, but I was so ashamed to be anything like them that I shoved it down.

And I regret how hesitant I was to admit that I was dazed and in love with this hero. Trying to seduce him like a Bond vamp, but it didn't fit me. Me, in my Russian uniform and cowboy boots, I was that naïve damsel in the westerns. I wanted to make him swoon, but I was too young and he was too hardened and I was too aloof and he was too dense and I was, well, a man.

I regret not getting it until i saw John's son twine his fingers with that scrawny Emmerich's. I regret thinking that I couldn't love right until that moment. I regret having toyed with him, with all of them, and I regretted it so much that I kissed the kid, the soldier, the son of the man I never fell out of love with. I had to. He looked just like his father aside from the eyes, and my life was coming to a close. I kissed him because I never got the chance to admit it to his father.

To be honest, now I don’t think it’s falling in love with John that I regret. It’s never getting to love him.


End file.
